by Eden O'Neill
I wondered what he did for a living.
Many questions about him, but not one of them surrounded how good this pizza probably was.
Borderline orgasmic, I waited anxiously while Ramses picked up the serrated spatula and served it. Thick and cheesy goodness pulled away from the pan when he served me, then himself. He sat back. “Ladies first. I want to see your reaction, Jersey girl.”
Jersey girl, huh? I’d let him have that one, picking my fork up in front of this Midwestern boy.
Smirking, I tabled my excitement as I forked the pie hard just to get off a little piece. I had Ramses waiting with anticipation as I blew on the bite before sliding it into my mouth. It was still hot, but once in there, there was no hiding my moan.
“Jesus,” I groaned, before taking another bite. There was no playing off how good this thing was and forget being ladylike. My eyes closed at another taste. “You weren’t joking. My God.”
This obviously pleased him, my delight. He got another wink in before he tasted his himself, and when the fuck left his lips, we both laughed.
He raised his hand. “Sorry. I’ve missed this, and it’s been a while.”
He had nothing to apologize for, wanting to curse myself. Before I knew it, half my piece was gone and Ramses was already starting in on his second slice. Of course, he asked if I wanted dibs first before going back in, but since I was still tackling my initial slice, I let him have at it. It’d been really nice he’d asked, though, considerate. It seemed I was finding a common trend here about him, my Midwestern knight in shining armor. How ready he’d been to come up on that high dive and talk to me. It’d really annoyed me. I’d wanted to be alone.
And yet here we were.
Him and I, almost hard to fight my smile as I watched him eat and enjoy himself. He ate at his pizza like I indulged in chocolate on a particularly angry month of PMS. I dabbed my lips with a napkin. My lipstick should hold up pretty good since I used a strong matte. “You said it’s been a while since you had this?”
If I lived here, I’d eat this all the time, my hips be damned. It’d be well worth an extended run in the morning. I tried to get a few miles in a day.
“Uh, yeah.” He’d devoured his third at this point and maybe enough as he sat back. The space between his buttons exposed that glorious chest of his, and I couldn’t help but envision what his shirt might look like off. He clearly worked out, that dress shirt leaving nothing to the imagination of his solid arms and thick shoulders.
Easing back, he adjusted in a booth meant for normal-sized humans, not someone such as himself with a wingspan that no doubt put Michael Phelps to shame. He smiled. “And I hope I didn’t disgust you. I basically just violated that thing in front of you.”
I snorted, like actually snorted in front of him, which I passed off when I took a drink of water. To save myself further, I covered my lips with a napkin, but the fact Ramses noticed wasn’t lost on me.
“Cute,” he said simply, like it was simple. Simple for him to say.
My face most assuredly hiked up in the same coloring as my chest earlier.
Completely crazy, I passed that off too, shy in front of this guy like I was a young girl in front of a boy. My mouth moved a little. “So, you were at the wedding, too. Bride or groom’s side?”
Evasion the easiest thing instead of paying attention to my heated cheeks, or other things that tingled and woke up just at a mere flash of that dashing grin or a wink of his brown eyes. This guy was as readily charming as he was handsome, dangerous. I didn’t trust myself with handsome. I didn’t trust myself with charming. Both made a girl stupid and turn a blind eye to things she probably shouldn’t.
At least, when it came to me.
“I was in the bridal party actually,” Ramses stated, which explained his suit. It’d been similar to the groom’s when I’d seen his. Soft laughter hit his chest as he laced his fingers across it. “I was the man of honor.” He opened his hands. “So, I guess I was there for the bride.”
Shock silenced me, surprise more than anything else. I suppose that was becoming more and more common, though. A woman choosing a man as her lead attendant. I grinned. “You two must be close. You and the bride?”
His fingers formed around his glass. “I suppose you could say that.”
She’d been lovely, the bride. Well, what I’d seen of her. I’d been sitting in the back of a room filled with at least five hundred people, the reception completely luxurious.
It’d even snowed.
Like inside, snow. It hadn’t been real, of course, more a lighting affect than actual flakes. Those had been there too. I recalled brushing them off in the bathroom. “How long have you two known each other?”
“Since high school.” I noticed it took him a moment, his index finger weaving along the condensation of his glass. Eventually, his eyes lifted in my direction. “She was, uh, the first girl I ever really loved if you can believe that.”
Choke, like a legitimate choke since I’d taken a drink. Had I heard him, correctly? I patted my chest. “You’re serious?”
Yeah, nothing funny about what he’d said there, his finger scratching the side of his neck. “As a heart attack.”
Wow.
Super intrigued now, I leaned forward. “Alright.”
“I mean, it was a long time ago, but yeah.” His chuckle a bit dry on the end there, he sat back, his hands tucked under his arms. “It’s there. A history there.”
Well, hell. My lips parted. “And that’s alright? I mean, the groom was okay with that?”
Obviously, since the pair exchanged nuptials and Ramses had said this was in the past, but still.
Legitimate humor touched his eyes now. He angled his head back and forth. “Prinze, her husband, and I have a history too. And it was rough back then when it was all going down. Not going to lie.”
“And now?”
“He tolerates me.” Light returned to his eyes, and I was glad for it. I found I didn’t quite like him too serious. If anything, I appreciated how laid-back he was, not so easy for most people, me. His head tilted. “He’s definitely softened to me over the years, though. We aren’t best bros or anything, but we’re far from the days of him wanting to kick my ass.”
“My God, had it gotten that bad?”
“We may or may not have thrown down in the hallway in high school.”
Jesus, I thought, but he grinned.
“But like I said, that’s in the past.” He pushed his glass away. “Obviously. They got married, and that makes me happy since she is. Prinze is good to her, there for her. He loves her, and how could I want anything other than that for her? She deserves that.”
How very mature of him. Even still, I could imagine that would be hard. “Are you happy?”
Maybe a too personal question, and definitely one I had no right to ask.
I lifted a hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” But I noticed he wouldn’t allow me to go away, pinning me to the creaky booth where I sat with his gaze. That easy grin returned to his lips, his fingers pushing away those brown curls. “But you can’t ask me that without giving me some of your dirty laundry.”
Well, would you look at him? Thinking, he could go there with me. I tapped my glass with my nail. “You’re being cocky again.”
“Am I?” And when his fingers eased against mine, my breath stalled, my tummy tight. A flourish of heat ghosted over my knuckles when he touched them, his boyish expression teasing once again. “How about this?”
How about this, his thumb brushing the center of my palm. It was such a subtle touch but drenched my entire core in hot lava. I felt like I flooded my panties.
What the hell?
Absolute panic on my end, and a man of his age definitely shouldn’t have this much game. “How old are you?”
It was like I needed to know, that it mattered for some reason. Like this was anything other than just a shared pizza between two strangers.
“How old ar
e you, Bri?” His cockiness showed once again. “Only fair if you tell me too.”
Only fair, but since I wasn’t going to admit that, I stayed silent.
He got me, goddamn him, his chuckle light when he sat back. I noticed he didn’t let go of my hand, his lengthy digits still playing across my knuckles. “I’m in my twenties, if that matters.”
“Well, I’m in my thirties.” I shrugged. “If that matters.”
“It doesn’t.” No lie in his eyes, and when he leaned forward, that entire hard chest of his hit the table. At least, it appeared to be hard.
God, did I want to touch it.
I wanted him to touch me. What the hell? “And I’m divorced.”
“Doesn’t matter.” His smile slow on his lips. “You’re not married now?”
“No.”
His nod touched the air, his hair a perfect wave of ebony dark curls. “Can I ask you something else?”
In that moment, I felt like he could ask me anything short of spreading out on the table for him, completely not me. Again. What. The. Hell? “Depends on what it is.”
He played with my fingers as he looped them together, forcing my palm to face the light. He drew soft circles over my flesh, like he was trying to read my palm but simply teasing me instead. “Would you tell me why you were going to jump tonight?”
I froze, and where I might have pulled away, I only breathed harder. “I never said I was going to jump.”
He threaded our fingers, completely taking my hand. He tugged me closer, and I tasted his air, tasted him, a hot combination of male and confidence. Both of which he exuded in spades. He swallowed. “I never said I wasn’t happy.”
I hadn’t assumed he wasn’t. But maybe, he wasn’t.
And maybe I was going to jump.
Maybe I wasn’t happy either, two not happy people together. Maybe I’d been at the wedding tonight when I didn’t want to be, and maybe he was forced to stand idle while another man married his first love. Maybe we were both two freaking losers and who were being losers together.
“Want to get out of here?” I asked, my breath heavy. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I didn’t do this, anything like this.
“That depends,” he stated, dampening his lips. It was quite possibly the most erotic thing I’d ever seen, and hell, if I could explain that. He looked up at me. “What are the odds that you’ll be there too?”
Quite high. “I wanted to jump tonight.” Crazy I was admitting this, admitting to a stranger, this. I nodded. “I was sad.”
And confused, confused why the sheer happiness of the evening tonight would make me want to do such a thing. That someone else’s happiness would physically pain me. It didn’t make sense and sounded almost cruel. Like I was evil.
Like I was petty.
I expected him to let go, but he didn’t. If anything, he held me closer. His fingers wrapped around my wrist again, his throat jumping. “I’m less happy than I am something else,” he admitted too, nodding too. “Most days something else.”
We were the same, both of us but in different ways. My head bobbed twice in acknowledgment. “It doesn’t have to be that way tonight. You could be more happy than something else.”
Who was this person? Certainly not me. I mean, I was basically propositioning this complete stranger for sex, his smile soft. Taking my hand, he used my finger to pull down an entire strand of my dark hair.
“And maybe you don’t have to jump,” he stated, but then a shrug. “Or maybe I could jump. Jump with you? What do you say, Jersey girl?”
I wouldn’t make him, of course. But something told me no one could make this guy do anything. He had a lot of his own control, his dedication to his friend told me that. He’d stood back once upon a time, allowed someone else to come in who he knew would love her. It told me so much about the control he had over his life as well as something else.
This Midwestern boy’s heart.
Chapter Five
Ramses
I should ask her last name.
But before I could manage the thought, things were moving too fast and I was taking her home.
Why the fuck was I taking this woman home?
Why had I revealed shit I barely acknowledged myself? Things about my past and who I was? The night started as me trying to save her from... whatever this shit was she was dealing with, and now, she was doing the same for me. This was fucked up.
Right?
My thoughts couldn’t help but say yes, and that was opportunist as fuck. I wasn’t this guy. I didn’t take women home. Well, I took women home but not like this and not under certain situations like this. They also definitely weren’t anyone remotely close to Brielle. I’d been with a handful of older women before but...
No, they weren’t like her. They didn’t feel like her if that made sense, and I most definitely didn’t play out all my shit in front of them like I needed some kind of therapy. I mean, what the hell had I sounded like tonight? I sounded needy, like I needed her.
I hadn’t even talked to December about all this.
True, I never aired out all my dirty laundry to my friend, made easier in the past with all the land mass between us. I told her things from time to time but nothing heavy, and I most certainly wasn’t a “sharer.” I wasn’t scared of my feelings or anything, but I wasn’t one to sink into them either. I was pretty laid-back. I simply dealt with stuff as it came up.
Or in this case not.
I tried to tell myself this was a different situation with Bri. That I wasn’t running once again and not dealing. That I was taking this woman home because we both wanted that. Hell, she’d been eye-fucking me over a deep-dish pizza as bad as I’d been her. I mean, it had to be pathetic the way I was looking at her half the night, her tits perfect and crimson the way the swell flushed above the top of her black dress. She was all woman from the smoky tone of her banter and even to the way she told me off tonight. It’d even turned me the fuck on.
Who was I right now? Really?
Certainly not this guy, but my keys in my hand and the other on her back, we were getting in my car and moving most certainly too fast. It was like I had blinders on when it came to this woman, under her spell, like prey to her. The only one I felt getting played was her since I was allowing this shit to happen. I needed to be the responsible one, the guy and analyzing all the cues of the situation.
A ready and willing (but most important of all sober) woman?
Check.
A hot-blooded male?
Fucking hell. Check.
Two damage souls with clear avoidance issues?
That was where shit got sticky. That was also where things got a little unethical. True, I was avoiding my own trivial shit, but I was well aware of my own issues. I hadn’t even grazed the surface of hers, though. What if she was dealing with something? Truly dealing with something, and here I was letting her use this, us, to not deal with it? This was starting to travel into asshole territory, and I wasn’t that guy no matter how much she physically called to me.
Which was a hell of a fucking lot.
This woman was a goddess, point blank, and I had no problem worshipping every inch of her for as long as she’d physically allow me. I wanted her like I wanted my hands and dick to do the very job, but I was straddling a line of uncertainty here.
Bri let me take her home this evening. Different since she hadn’t even wanted to get in the car with me when the night began. She didn’t know me, so I hadn’t been offended. Now, we were both behind the dash with her hand on my leg and mine at her nape, playing with her thick hair that smelled like bottled flowers. It filled up my damn car, and odds were, it would long after she got out.
Think about what you’re doing.
I wasn’t thinking. Being an asshole who thought more about his cock and avoiding his own feelings. I was getting more than one thing out of this.
Maybe feelings were an issue for me.
Such a stereotype, right? And not the man my m
other raised. She’d be looking at me with a major side-eye right now.
Hell, I was side-eyeing myself.
Turned out Bri lived on the north side of Maywood Heights. The drive was silent the majority of the ride outside of the easy listening hip hop beats I played. I was used to sitting with my own thoughts, so I preferred music that didn’t drown them out. In tonight’s case, the choice had been annoying, but I couldn’t change it since it was already playing when she got in. That would have been weird, and in any sense, I found a fair amount of distraction with Brielle’s hand simply on my thigh. She drifted rather close to my cock, which made my shit basically unbearable in my tight dress pants.
I squeezed her neck in front of her uptown complex, not the suburbs but upscale none the less. In fact, the city had been developing the subdivision more and more to attract more businessmen and women, as well as young professionals and my father’s company, Mallick Enterprises, even had a few properties there. I knew because I’d asked to be sent all his newer projects as well as the ones in progress under my family’s real estate and development company. I suppose they weren’t my dad’s properties per se but the ones his company managed and made decisions on while he was away. I guess this was all my cross to bear now, and I got to stare it in the face with this woman’s hand near my cock.
A few stories raised high to the night’s sky in a snow-encrusted evening. I took to underground parking, but I didn’t turn off the car when we arrived, nor did I get out. I was still in debate here, hesitating, but Brielle wasn’t. She gazed up at me expectantly, her cheeks incredibly flushed and her lips pouty. She wanted to be kissed, and she wanted me to do the job.
What the hell.
My only asshole thought before I did exactly what she wanted, testing that lipstick when I tugged her head back and devoured her.